


video game boyf riends

by navinaura



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bicurious Jeremy Heere, Gay Michael Mell, M/M, Making Out, Mild Internalized Homophobia, No SQUIP, Rated M for language and some content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navinaura/pseuds/navinaura
Summary: just two dudes being bros(and by that i mean they’re super gay)





	video game boyf riends

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this all at like 2am the other day and i didn’t spell check or anything so please let me know if there’s anything i need to fix. enjoy!

“Yo, watch it!” Jeremy exclaims without taking his eyes off the screen. “You almost got us killed back there, dude.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see him coming!” Michael responds, referring to the enemy that suddenly ambushed them in Apocalypse of The Damned.

When their characters die for the fifth time, Jeremy groans in frustration. “God damn it!” Michael knows, from years of observation, that when Jeremy gets frustrated, he tends to bite his lip. And Michael? Man, Michael can’t get enough of it. He would never admit it out loud, but sometimes he wishes it was him biting his friend’s lip.

Fuck, he’s so gay for Jere.

As they keep playing, Michael keeps sneaking glances over at Jeremy, especially the boy’s lips, the bottom of which remains trapped between his teeth, and it drives Michael crazy. As the difficulty of the game increases, so do the amount of curses and moans Jeremy mutters under his breath, and Michael starts feeling his pants getting tighter by the second.

Oh man, this is so wrong... Jeremy is his best friend, nothing more than that— but if that’s all they are, then why is Michael feeling this way about him?

A sudden grim, robotic voice uttering “ **GAME OVER** ” brings Michael back to reality. Jeremy throws himself back into his bed, which they’re sitting on, putting his controller down.  
“Fuck this, we’ve been doing the same level for hours. It’s too hard,” Jeremy says, and Michael thinks of something else that is also too hard.

Michael looks back at his best friend, who looks so beautiful laying there with his eyes closed, and he starts to inch nearer to him. He really has no intention with this, and doesn’t plan to make a move or anything– he just wants to see how close he can get before Jeremy noti–

“Michael, what are you doing?” Jeremy mumbles, startling the spectacled boy.

“Me? I– Nothing, Jere, why do you ask?”

“You’re just... lookin’ at me all weird.”

“I’m– no, I wasn’t. I am not.”

“Is everything okay, man?” Jeremy inquires. “You look very pale.”

And indeed he does, all color drained from his face after being confronted by his friend so suddenly. He doesn’t know what to say— he could be honest, and that could turn out two ways: his buddy feels the same way and they make out and it’s all great, or Jeremy freaks out and kicks him out of his life forever. Or, he could lie and keep avoiding the subject, and get away from it receiving only a weird look from Jere at most. His brain decides on the latter, but unfortunately his mouth doesn’t follow the order.

“SorryforstaringIjustthinkyou’rereallypretty.”

“You... what?”

Shit.

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything, did you hear something? I don’t think I said anything,” he rushes through the sentence and gulps. “What?”

“Michael,” Jeremy grins, “It’s fine, dude. I love getting complimented.” He pretends to flip his hair, which makes Michael laugh, but he has to get back to what he was about to say.

“It’s not just me complimenting you, Jere,” Michael mumbles, low enough for it to be barely audible but not quite a whisper.

Jeremy sits up now, a slightly puzzled expression on his face. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you’re really pretty, and I like you. As in, _like_ like you.”

Silence.

“Oh.”

More silence. Michael punches himself internally.

And then, Jeremy utters the end-all be-all phrase that Michael has been wanting to hear since the seventh grade: “It’s okay, Michael. I _like_ like you too.”

Michael cracks a grin. “You _like_ like me?”

“Yeah”

“Like, _like_?”

“Stop,” Jeremy chuckles and playfully punches his friend’s arm. “Yes, I do. I never wanted to say anything cause, y’know I didn’t wanna make things weird and—“

“Oh, me too. I didn’t wanna... ruin things, or whatever.”

“Or whatever?”

“Shut up.” Michael blushes. “So, like, now what?”

“You know, I think this is the part where we make out and ride off into the sunset,” Jeremy delivers, and Michael bursts out laughing.

Michael chuckles. “Well, it’s like 4 PM, so no sunsets but... uh...” _God_ , he can’t believe he’s about to say this– “We can still make out...”

Jeremy’s eyes widen at this statement, and Michael stammers, “I-I mean, only if you want to.”

“No, yeah, I do,” he replies, “Sorry, I’m just– Yes, I want to.”

“Oh... okay,” Michael trails off, unsure what to do next. Jeremy notices and decides that one of them is gonna have to make a move eventually, so why not him? He approaches his spectacled friend and places his hands on either side of his face, leaning in and taking a second before pressing his lips against Michael’s.

And just like that, Michael melts. All his nerve endings are on fire, years of painful silent pining suddenly worth something as his whole body is set ablaze by the sensation of Jeremy’s soft lips against his. He kisses Jere back, hard, and the lighter-haired boy moans. Fuck, Michael would do anything for a little bit of contact right about now.

The hoodie-clad boy pulls back lightly, parting for the first time since they started kissing. “Jere,” he half-whispers, “can I take your shirt off?”

“Can you– what? Oh...” Jeremy turns the color of Michael’s hoodie, and the latter immediately feels bad for even bringing it up.

Michael pulls away completely now, covering his face in embarrassment. “Never mind— forget it, sorry,” he mumbles, “I went too far. Sorry.”

“You already said sorry–“

“I know, fuck—“

“—and I was gonna say yes, anyway.”

Michael is usually never at a loss for words, always some witty comeback in the back of his mind, but at this point the only things that could possibly come out of his mouth would be unintelligible mumbles. Finally, he finds a way to say, “Oh.”

“Here,” Jeremy takes Michaels hand, guiding it to the hem of his t-shirt. Michael stays still, fingers barely grasping the striped fabric.  
“You’re supposed to pull it up, idiot.”

Michael snickers, tugging the top over Jere’s head. “Don’t call me idiot.”

Michael starts to remove his own top, quickly parting the kiss to pull the hoodie over his head, and Jere presses a kiss to Michael’s neck. Against the soft skin, he murmurs, “You’re my idiot.”

Michael’s speechless once more, melting again under the other boy’s touch. A moment later, once he’s regained the ability to speak coherent words, he mutters, “Fuck you, Jeremy Heere.”

“Sure,” Jere chuckles, pressing a kiss to the other’s lips, “if you want to.”

“SHUT UP.”

They giggle against each other’s mouth, both a blushing mess. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, and a voice calls from outside the room.

“Jeremy? You in there, sport?” asks Jeremy’s dad, making both boys have a minor heart attack.

“Oh– fuck,” Jeremy mumbles, untangling himself from his best friend. Michael curses under his breath, as Jeremy struggles to put his shirt back on and Michael runs a hand through his hair to make the curls look a bit less disheveled.

“Just a second, dad!”

Once they look as put together as they can, (not accounting for their faces, which are currently bright red) Jeremy goes to open the door.

“Hey son,” Mr. Heere says, “Hey Michael.”

“Oh, um, hello Mr. Heere,” Michael mumbles, surprises at the fact that he is wearing pants today (Pajama bottoms, but– baby steps, right?)

“Whatcha boys doing?”

“Justplayingvideogames,” Jeremy replies too fast. So much for acting normal.

“Cool,” he replies in a mock-cool tone, finger gunning, which makes Jeremy want to die. “Well, I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll, be right downstairs if you need me.”

“Yeah, thanks Dad,” utters Jeremy, and he waits until his dad is well out of earshot to speak again. “That was close.”

“Shit, yeah. But I mean, what would happen if he... you know, if he found out?”

Puzzled, the light brunette replies, ”What do you mean?”

”Like, would he get mad or freaked out or–“

”No, he doesn’t care if I’m—” Jeremy catches himself, not sure if he wants labels quite yet, “—who I like. It’s more that it’d be weird when you came over, like he’d be checking on us and shit.”

”Oh.”

”Why do you ask?”

Michael sighs, ”Man, I know for a fact my parents would lose it. They’re religious in like, the way only Latino parents can be. They’d probably kick me out.”

”Shit...” Jeremy trails off, unsure how to respond to that. “Well, you know, if anything happens you can always stay here. You know that, right?”

”Thanks.” Michael waits a second, and then leans in to press a kiss to Jere’s cheek.

Jeremy giggles once Michael’s pulled away. “This is unbearably cheesy,” he says, and the spectacled boy laughs.

”You’re unbearably cheesy.”

”Shut up. Come here.” Jeremy pulls him in for another kiss, and the moment their lips meet all worries fade away. Parents, norms, expectations– nothing matters when they’re together. 

**Author's Note:**

> i love these two more than what is healthy


End file.
